The empty bowl is not wistful for flour,
yeast, warm water, salt—the makings of bread.
The soil has no desire of its own:
tomatoes or roses. Lawn or no lawn.
The fabric is not interested in the skirt pattern;
a spool of beige thread is indifferent to the button.
A body of water does not care whether you admire
its hue, its depth, its greeny bank or pebbled bottom.
The maps of Paris, London, and Berlin are not
impatient for your scrutiny, your furrowed brow.
The people into whose faces you look, wondering
could you love me? May I love you? They are strangers.
The blank page does not whisper, I am waiting for the finest
words you can muster. My pen is mute, its sigh inaudible.
Annie Stenzel (she/her) is a lesbian poet who was born in Illinois, but did not stay put. Her second full-length collection, Don’t misplace the moon, was published last year by Kelsay Books. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in print and online journals in Canada, the U.S., and the U.K., including Gavialidae, One Art, Rust + Moth, Sheila-na-Gig, SoFloPoJo, SWWIM, St, Katherine’s Review, Thimble, Whale Road Review, and Action, Spectacle. A poetry editor for the online journals Right Hand Pointing and West Trestle Review, she lives on unceded Ohlone land within walking distance of the San Francisco Bay.
Image: “Potential Tool” by Nicole Monroe
Pine Hills Review 